


With Rain To Wash Us Dry

by lille082



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Comfort Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Porn with Feelings, Self-Reflection, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lille082/pseuds/lille082
Summary: Q can't afford to let himself reflect on things, but sometimes he can't quite help it.  Bond comforts him the only way he knows how.





	With Rain To Wash Us Dry

The tea held between Q’s hands did wonders to warm him from the inside, chilled as he was from walking home from the tube.  A bright flash of light filled the sky and, out of habit, he counted the number of seconds that passed before the thunder could be heard.  He curled his bare feet underneath him on the window seat, leaning against the cool glass.

Time slipped away from him as he sat, watching the tempest filling the late night London sky.  He noticed at one point a warm weight in his lap and discovered Turing settled there, purring contentedly as he scratched behind his ears absentmindedly.

For all that he loved thunderstorms—weather patterns, really, the predictability and spontaneousness of it all—storms like this always brought forth a touch of melancholy in him.  He knew that his sleep-and-nutrition-deprived state didn’t help the matter, but the mood settled around him like a fog too dense to see through.  Sometimes—just, sometimes—he couldn’t help but think about how working for the good guys was all a matter of perspective.  It didn’t matter what side they were on, there’d be death and destruction either way and isn’t that terrible?  All for the sake of what?  Money.  Power.  Sex.  Drugs.  Nothing they could do would ever stop it completely.  It was disgusting.

Some days he wanted to wipe it all away.  _Tabula Rasa_.  Leave the service of Her Majesty’s government and move to the backwoods of Canada, his closest neighbour a five-minute drive at least.  He had the aliases and corresponding accounts; he could leave at any time.  But he didn’t.

A particularly bright flash of light was quickly followed by a rumble of thunder so loud it rattled the windows, startling the cat out of his lap.  He stared at the sheets of rain visible in the streetlight, only looking away as he heard the latch of the bedroom door.

“Q?” James’s voice was rough, sleep worn, exhausted.

He turned to watch his lover as he shuffled across the room to him.

“You’re sitting in the dark,” he murmured, bending to press a soft kiss to unruly curls.

“Didn’t want to wake you.  You haven’t slept in days.”

James snorted.  “You haven’t either.”

Q didn’t respond, instead turning to stare at the storm once more.  James knew that look, knew Q’s tone.  He extracted the empty mug from Q’s grasp and set it on the floor then sat down on the bench beside him.  The softest of tugs on his arm had Q crawling into James’s lap, settling back against his chest.  James pressed a kiss to his temple before nosing into his hair, inhaling the lingering scent of Q’s shampoo.

This was why he didn’t leave.  Who would have predicted that _James bloody Bond_ would end up being his anchor, the sole tether to this life to ensure he could not walk away from it.  James knew how he felt, the desire he had to escape it all.  They hadn’t talked about it, not exactly; but Q knew he felt the same way at times, drowning it in booze and rough sex that made Q ache for days. Q figured that maybe someday, there would be an opportunity and they could jump ship together.  He’d once thought that Bond would never stand for such a dull life but knew better now.

James was quiet, watching the lightning cast ever-changing shadows across his younger lover’s face.  He knew this mood; knew that it would only pass once the storm did and Q got a decent night’s sleep.  But he’d still do what he could to offer comfort to the other man.

He carded one hand into Q’s curls, allowing the other to wander over Q’s body unhurriedly, a grounding touch.  A gentle stroke of a thigh, a tease of fingernails along the inside of a wrist.  Eventually, his fingers found their way under Q’s jumper, untucking his shirt in order to trace the line of his hipbone teasingly.  Q shivered at the touch and gooseflesh rose to the surface.  Bond smiled, leaning down to press gentle kisses along the smooth column of neck Q presented to him as he rested his head back on his shoulder.

“James,” Q whispered, gasping as teeth scraped over his pulse point.

“Q.” James traced just under the top of Q’s pants, feather-light and nowhere near enough.

Q twisted in his loose embrace and brought their mouths together, holding his face in his hands as he straddled him.  James smiled into the kiss, only breaking the connection to divest Q of his jumper.

“Missed you,” Q finally breathed into James's mouth as he loosened his tie and undid the buttons of his shirt, the source of his despondence revealing itself to them.

James hummed in agreement, biting an angry red mark on his shoulder.

“No more sleeper assignments.  I don’t care what M says, you’re not doing them anymore.”

“Is that an order, Q?”  James smiled, running his fingers over ribs like the ivories of a piano.  

“Damn right it is,” Q said as he undid the button on his trousers, struggling to push Bond’s pants down over his hips and out of the way at the same time.

James lifted his hips off the bench to assist and in doing so brushed their still-clothed cocks together.  They stilled, a low moan escaped him and Q whimpered, before their hands scrambled to free each other from the confines of their clothes.

“Oh, fuck,” James breathed as Q wrapped one long-fingered hand around their lengths, the hot slide of precum easing the way.  James threaded the fingers of one hand in Q’s hair as he slowly thrust upward into his grip, revelling in the feel of Q’s cock against his.

Q crushed their lips together relentlessly, pouring everything he wanted to say but couldn’t into the kiss.  How fiercely he’d missed him.  How the desire to run away with him into the night was overwhelming in this moment.  How he needed to protect him at all costs; his life now taking a higher precedence in Q’s heart and mind over any mission and any command.

And damned if James didn’t give as good as he got.

The broad fingers of James’s hand encircled their cocks as close to the base as possible and they settled into a rhythm, steady like the rain against the windowpane but slow, both wanting to draw it out as much as they could after their extended separation.

James fucked up into their fists as he felt the signs of Q’s impending orgasm; the trembling of his thighs, his breath hot on his chest as he rested his forehead on James’s shoulder.  Pleasure began pooling at the base of James’s spine and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer.

“Let go, love,” he breathed into Q’s ear.  Q’s whimper in response transformed into a moan as he allowed himself to fuck up into their grip as well.  James recaptured Q’s lips as he felt his hips begin to stutter in their increasingly frantic rhythm, and James allowed himself to thrust with abandon at the first hot pulse of Q’s cock.  He cried out as his orgasm overtook him, and continued thrusting into their grip until he began to feel Q shiver with overstimulation.

Ragged breathing slowly returned to normal as they shared soft, drowsy kisses, consumed in the darkness by the sound of the storm raging outside.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written fairly quickly as an exercise while it was storming outside--I hope it came together alright.
> 
> Happy 007 Fest everyone!
> 
> I'm on the tumbls: lille082 . tumblr . com


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